Le Masseur
by appabadass
Summary: He was good and she was desperate. He felt good too. Too good to be on just top of her, in her, between her legs. Kataang. Rated M.


**Well hello people. Trying out myself in writing. This is my first story... well at least the first I have actually written down. I had this idea for weeks now and I finally persuaded myself to write it out... and this is the outcome. The story will be multi-chaptered and I don't know how long it will be, but I promise I'll try to update on a regular basis somehow.**

**The theme is simple: AU in modern world, massage and bath house and all those things but I'm not gonna give away anything. ;) Also, I figured that the KataraxAang pairing needs a story like this sooo... yeah.**

**Anyway, I stop babbling. Enjoy the story!**

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Quiet.

It was quiet. Eerily quiet.

It wasn't something she was used to, having a toddler around the house all the time. A toddler who was currently with her grandfather some streets away from the house.

The house. The house in which she was alone now. All to herself. Katara would be lying if she said she knew what to do with this unusual arrangement.

She looked around. The shutters were down, thus enveloping the house in darkness. No lights were on.

It was quiet.

Kya and Hakoda wouldn't be home until morning. Her father adored his grandchild, hence why she was with him at the moment, giving him a nice enough excuse to save his daughter some much needed time to herself.

Time to herself.

Katara almost laughed, but kept her mouth shut, not wishing to disturb the tranquility that seemed to crawl its way into every little corner and nook in the house.

It was relaxing, sitting on the couch at an ungodly hour in the night in nothing but a thin nightgown to cover her modesty. Not that there was anyone she could have showed herself off to.

It was still quiet. She was still alone. With a nightgown on her.

She looked down on herself. Her breasts blocked her view from her full body. The night gown stopped midthigh, leaving the rest of her legs free to the chill night air.

She had shaved the day before. For what or who, she couldn't pinpoint, but she had done it nonetheless. It seemed useless to do it, to care for her look, but she still did, though why, she didn't know.

Her gaze traveled upwards, towards her abdomen. It was sleek and nicely toned. The effect of the constant training. Her hands were resting in her lap; arms dangling at her sides.

Her eyes reached her breasts and she sighed. She cupped one of them through the clothe and slowly started to fondle it. Her fingers reached her nipple and carefully rubbed it over once. A reserved, light moan was the result.

Eyes slowly sinking close, she gripped her other breast under the garment, smoothing her hands over the expanse of it once. Twice. Tickling the aerola with her thumb, rubbing her hardened nipple, the moans escaping her mouth were becoming increasingly loud.

But it was still quiet. And she was still alone.

The right hand which she was using to twist her nipple between her fingers was now slowly travelling down her breast and abdomen, towards the place where heat was eminating from.

Katara lifted her gown. She delicately spread her outer lips, using her middle finger to caress the exposed flesh of her womanhood. She slowly slid it up and down in long, steady strokes. Her thumb found her clitoris by now and her left hand was still fondling her breast and rubbing her nipple with vigor. One finger soon slipped into her warm cavern, thrusthing in and out gently at first then with enchaning tempo, raising the sounds of her moans along with her arousal. Her depths were moistened, her finger doubled with another, coated in her juices. She was wet. She was ready.

She was alone.

She suddenly stopped and stood up. Katara gripped her nightgown and slipped it over her head, letting the cloth drop onto the floor. It was the first sound that could be heard besides her enjoyment and harsh pants.

But it was still quiet.

She laid down on the cool floor, hair cascading in every direction. She spread her legs and resumed her eariler ministrations, one hand caressing her left breast, the other between her legs, stroking her labia, rubbing her clitoris, fingers slipping in and out of her, feeling the insides of her womanhood.

But it was not enough. It never was. It always failed to satisfy her thirst, the hunger for a warm body next to her, touching her, holding her.

But she was alone.

The cold floor beneath her back and buttocks only served to highten her desire for that body. Two fingers weren't enough. Three fingers still not, even with delving into her depths, smoothly sliding into her creamy flesh all the way, then out, then back into her hot body again.

It was all she could do in her power to sate that intense crave. A crave she was desperately trying to satisfy herself at the moment, fingers thrusting into her, her left hand long abandoned fondling her breast to tightly grasp her bottom.

All her attempts was in vain. Useless. Katara didn't have the power in her hands to bring closure, not even with both thumbs vigorously rubbing her enlarged clitoris.

But something did.

She slowly ceased the proccess of pleasuring herself, taking her hands away from her womanhood. She stayed on the floor for a few minutes, catching her breath before stading up and making her way into her bedroom.

In the bedroom she was still alone and it was still quiet.

Reaching into her drawer, she took out her treasured item. She threw the covers and blankets away from the bed, already becoming frustrated as per usual with these situations that she was forced to resort to such desperate measures, though her anger didn't last long for the thick fog of hormones and arousal blocked any coherent thought from entering her mind.

Altough that didn't stop the long, imitated male organ opening her wet folds and plunging deep into her slick flesh. The following moan would soon be accompanied by many other. Lubrication wasn't needed. She was wet enough. So wet.

She was aggressive. Her hand thrusting the item into her womanhood was fierce and it was sliding into her through her entrance and out of her warm pussy with a force that was almost enough to bring her to orgasm. Almost.

She knew what she had to do. With a swift a motion, she started rubbing her clitoris over and over, bringing her ever closer to much needed completion.

She was close. So close. Her moans long ago turned into loud pants which were steadily turning into light screams.

A sign.

She felt it. She felt it for when it had finally happened, she screamed and her body started to convulse. She was still sliding the toy and with a final thrust, she buried it into the deepest part of her womanhood, to the hilt, her pussy clenching around the item so hard it hurt. She unraveled.

She didn't mind. She cared about nothing when she was experiencing her orgasm, when her toes curled in on themselves, teeth biting lips, eyes tightly shut, skin dampened with sweat and her mouth forming a little, satisfied smile.

She relaxed and carefully took the toy out. Her legs dropped to the bed just as her arms.

She layed there for minutes, maybe more.

She was alone.

And it was quiet again.

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**Hope you guys like it so far. :)**


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